


Ramblings of a Stormtrooper

by Charity_Angel



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Empire-era, Epilogue, Gen, No Dialogue, POV Outsider, SPOILERS I SAY, Spoilers, mentions canon character deaths, post-episode S07E12 Victory and Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24010921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charity_Angel/pseuds/Charity_Angel
Summary: In which one of the Stormtroopers muses over what happened to the doomed ship?
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	Ramblings of a Stormtrooper

**Author's Note:**

> Just for those who didn't read the tags: SPOILERS AHOY.
> 
> There, you have been warned. Now, for everyone who has seen it, the epilogue doesn't make it clear how far in the future it is. I'm going with 'not that far'.
> 
> This is a slightly more considered response than my knee-jerk "Nope" that I posted on Tumblr. Although I still much prefer to adopt @flamethrower's canon as truth.
> 
> Happy effing Star Wars Day...

IC-2421’s the… well, not the name. I did have a name, only just a few years ago, but no-one uses it any more. It was only my sister used my name, but I haven’t heard from her in over a year. I don’t know where she is, but she’s not at our home on Coruscant. Imperial Center. Whatever. She hated what the new regime was doing to the place, so she probably skipped off-world and hasn’t got herself settled yet. I put as much into her bank as I can to help her out.

I was one of the first to enlist in the aftermath of the massacre. The Empire considers it to be the Jedi's slaughter of clone troopers just trying to do their lawful duties; certain quarters suggest that it was the slaughter of the Jedi by the clones, but those people seem to disappear quickly. Too quickly.

It's hard to know, and even having such thoughts could be dangerous, but for me the truth is probably somewhere in the middle. Whether the Jedi were traitors or not, they were fighting for their lives and things went horribly, horribly wrong.

Whichever way you look at it, the galaxy was a mess and there was a vast shortage of soldiers in the army. They welcomed any fit male of age, and… well, they didn’t look too hard at my ID, nor at the fact that I hadn’t been able to get most of my hormones and was still pretty female-looking. They were desperate, and I needed the money for my little sister. And hey, I got my hormones as part of the medical care. Caia will barely recognise me when I manage to track her down, but she’ll be pleased. She was always so cross when she figured out I’d skipped out on buying them because she needed food and shelter more than I needed to be a boy. It was just the two of us and I needed to look out for her. We didn’t have any grand story like some of the other orphans in the lower levels: Mama had gotten sick and we couldn’t afford good enough health care for her. Papa? Who knows? I don’t honestly know if Caia and I have the same father.

The clones used to patrol the lower levels, back when I lived down there. Most of the time it was the red ones, and they were uptight, but occasionally it would be one of the battalions who were back on a break from the war and chipping in to help their brothers. That’s what they all called each other – brother, or sometimes _vod_ , which was apparently their word for it. One of the gold-painted ones had told me once; a guy who shaved his head bald, but kept a little soul patch on his chin. I can’t remember his name, but the clone that was patrolling with him sighed it often enough. I got the feeling that this guy stopped to talk to curious kids a lot. He smiled a lot too, and his brother – his _vod_ was too under that helmet. They don’t do that any more: they’re completely professional all the time. It’s like they’ve forgotten how to have fun. Forgotten how they used to be. Maybe even _who_ they used to be. The ones who wore other colours than red all had different patterns on their armour, and you could get to recognise the same clones.

I’m being unfair to the red ones – there was one guy, he had some odd, complicated symbol on his helmet. It was a tiny little thing, a circle, but with lots of other shapes winding their way through it, but to me it seemed like a bit of a rebellion from a guy who felt friendlier than the rest of them. And if there was one, there were probably others.

But they don’t even do something that subtle any more; just like the rest of us their armour is completely white, devoid of any marking save those for rank. I miss the colours that unified a battalion and told everyone else where they belonged; where they had found their place.

This rambling is kind of relevant, I promise. This morning we get roused to the news that no, we’re not spending another day running drills; the scans have turned up a wrecked Republic capital ship on a moon in the ass end of nowhere and we’re going to check it out. This is kind of exciting; you never know what turns up on these ships. Most of them were big enough that there could be survivors of a shipwreck even if they didn’t manage to get to the escape pods in time. From time to time we find a group of clones who are grateful for the rescue, and they get folded back into the army. I’d say like they never left, but they probably get used as target practice by their supposed squad-mates these days. Our Lord and master doesn’t allow that kind of thing, but armies talk; we hear things from other units.

I never quite know what to make of the Lord: he’s a whirlwind of emotion that sets my teeth on edge. Sometimes he’s just rage and spite, sometimes he’s reason shrouded in darkness. And then sometimes he’s melancholy. That usually happens when we find evidence of a clone massacre. I think he must have served with, or at least known the clones during the war, but I’m never going to know whether that’s true or not. It’s just a feeling. I’m usually pretty good with those: not enough to have been taken by the Jedi as a kid – thank _goodness_ – but enough to have been tested.

Even if all we salvage from a downed ship is ammunition, field rations, and medical supplies, it’s a good reason to check the things out. This time… This time I know it’s bad on the way down. This place has a feel of despair and death about it, stronger than normal for wrecks. Our Lord doesn’t travel with us so I can’t check, but my guess is that he feels it too. I think he’s like me: Force-sensitive but not Jedi-strong.

The whole thing is covered in snow, but there is something very, very different about this ship. The blue armour doesn’t match the orange helmets. The helmets that are all, except for a very few blue ones, the same. That creeps me out like nothing else – except for the Reds, that wasn’t something that clones did. Their helmet was the face they presented to the world, where they could express their individuality.

Either these clones had been amazingly loyal to someone and adopted their markings, or there was something seriously wrong.

But even weirder than that was what was clearly a memorial. Some of the helmets had been scattered by the wind over the years, but there was an upright stake for every single one. Some still had the helmets perched on them; a mix of the anomalous, identical orange, and blue. It was a familiar blue, now I thought about it. That was the same blue as had followed Lord Vader into the Jedi Temple to wipe out the Order. So this was the other half of the 501st Battalion, the half that had gone missing on a mysterious mission that didn’t appear in the official logs, although CC-1119 had made allusions to it in his log since it was how he had come to take his rightful command. But why the orange? It still didn’t make sense.

And the memorial: someone had survived, and cared enough to set this out, but where were they now? There was no sign of anyone living in the ship – which was full of the rotted bodies of clones – and no sign of someone having survived the crash to die later on either.

One more mystery I will probably never learn the answer to. Shipwrecks are usually fairly grim, even the ones with survivors, but this one is something else.

I step back as I hear Lord Vader approach behind me. He’s fairly rational at the moment by the feel of him, but the display seems to knock him for six. The blue helmet decorated with the Republic’s roundel particularly chimes with his recognition. There’s a name I’ve never heard before that comes unbidden into my mind, and the impression of laughter and fierce loyalty. I have to get a hold of myself before he notices something is wrong with me. I think he’s pretty lenient, but any kind of Force-sensitivity is frowned upon now. Too many questions get asked.

But I don’t think Lord Vader is paying me the slightest bit of attention: his aura has gone quiet for the first time that I can remember in the five years I’ve been serving under him in the 501st. It’s grief that has done this to him. He must have known these clones even though they never made it back to serve as stormtroopers. He must have known them well to have such a powerful reaction; to have known the name belonging to the bearer of that distinctive helmet.

He turns away with a swish of his dark cloak, but pauses only a few feet away. He stoops and picks up something that had been buried in the snow. He half-turns, staring at the object in his hand. It’s a cylinder, about twice as long as the width of his palm. It’s… no, surely not?

But it is. He ignites a bright blue blade; short – too short to have been Anakin Skywalker’s since he was almost as tall as Lord Vader himself. Perhaps this company had been borrowed by another Jedi?

And then I realise: is it possible that this other Jedi is the survivor? Someone who cared enough to create a memorial to the troopers they lost? The ship must have come down some time before the Emperor declared the Jedi traitors then. Had they simply lost their lightsaber in the confusion of the crash, or had they discarded it on purpose?

Another question I will never know the answer to.

There are lots of questions I know I will never know the answers to, but the clones followed an old Mandalorian way of life. I remember the bald, golden clone – Waxer. Caia had asked him if it was because he waxed his head (apparently not, but we never did find out the reason) – telling us that. I’ve looked up their traditions, because there are still some old-school Mandalorians out there, rebelling against the Empire’s rule and we are allowed to know how to combat our enemies effectively. Mandalorians recite the names of lost family to keep their spirits alive. And family is an apparently flexible concept. Brothers that you fight alongside can be family to each other. And brothers can also be sisters because their language and culture don’t give a crap about gender. No-one misgendering you because the pronouns don’t exist.

Makes me wonder how many of the clones were like me, but no-one ever knew because the word ‘brother’ didn’t mean ‘male sibling’ to them. Something else I will probably never know, although if I catch the right clone, on the right day, I might get an answer. Maybe. Most of the time they pretend there’s no deviations from their original template, even though there are some with different hair and/or eye colours.

But something I can do, for these clones who could have been my brothers if they had survived. The brave men who fought the droid incursion. I can remember them as per their tradition. Waxer, the bald clone who was so friendly to me and my sister. His brother, Boil (because he was a pain in the ass). This loyal Republic soldier, Jesse, who was apparently the life and soul of the battalion. My name is Rik Talcyon: now that you’re ahead, may you find the peace that you did not know here.

Hopefully some day I will find my peace too. With my sister would be nice; I think you guys can understand that.

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta-read, only skimmed for errors. If you spot anything let me know.


End file.
